After the War
by Afrokot
Summary: Crosspost from AO3: After reaper war fluffiness for TinderWulf.


After the War. How often did they talk about it? About plans, and wishes, and places to see and… How often had they meant it? Seems like no one really believed in success, let alone their continuing survival. Not after Mordin, Eve, the collector's ship… Their losses are too many to count. All of them made sacrifices, went through so much; grieved, and fought, and died so that life can continue existing.

And now when the final battle is over and done with, It feels unreal, like a flickering desert mirage - intangible and incomprehensible. Shepard should feel something. Relief, she thinks. Or maybe happiness. Instead, she's just tired and empty inside. She could sleep for a year. Probably. If her dreams weren't plagued by nightmares. Her lips twitch in a brief smile.

Sighing, she closes her eyes; with a dull thud her head connects with a metal casing of an upturned MAKO that somehow got thrown onto the roof. It's broken well beyond repair. It makes no difference, though; there's nothing but wreckage for miles and miles, and entire planets are butchered a lot worse than this. It shouldn't make her sad, this lone battered vehicle. Compared to everything else it's nothing to cry over, surely, but suddenly she is so inexplicably sorrowful and, God, what is wrong with her? What is she doing grieving over the loss of a fucking MAKO?! She beats her head against the metal again - once, twice. This time it's quite deliberate.

"Shepard?" The sound of footsteps on the debris gets closer. "Are you alright?"

"Admiral," she nods in acknowledgement without opening her eyes and waits too long before replying to his question. "Fine. I'm fine."

She hears a sigh, then a crunch as Admiral Steven Hackett clears the space and sits on the ground next to her. Their shoulders brush. "Are you really?"

"Uh-huh. I will be." Silence descends, and for awhile it's comfortable. Here she can barely perceive the ruckus of ongoing celebration. "Just needed a moment for myself, you know?" Finally opening her eyes Shepard turns to look at him. "Did you need something?"

"No, it's nothing that can't wait. You more than deserve a respite. I was just worried…" he cuts himself off abruptly. "Never mind, it's just an old man's ramblings."

"You are not old," she protests reenacting their long-standing argument. Though for some reason it feels different, as if a well-worn glove suddenly changed its color.

She expects him to start a speech on how ancient he is in comparison with her, which is frankly ridiculous since he is just slightly over fifty, but instead Hackett changes the topic completely. "I saw EDI making out with Joker."

That surprises a startled laugh out of her. "Really? Good for them!" Grinning, she blows at errant strand of hair that got in her eye. Frustratingly, it refuses to move. The corners of his lips curl upward.

"I've just received an update from Hannah, she will be here in two days." He watches the path of her hair, amused when Shepard frowns at it.

"Yeah, Mom said as much when we talked earlier." The blasted strand just won't go away!

"Shepard, all your team members are downstairs drinking their way into the next century. Even that uppish Prothean, Javik, was it? Has a superiority complex bigger than the Nith's sun, by the way." He catches her gaze and, demeanor turning serious, continues. "Why are you _really_ here and not celebrating our - _your_ - victory with them?"

"I..." Shepard stops. Words defy her will, get stuck in her throat. Admitting weakness - even to her dearest and oldest friend - was never her strong suit. Swallowing, she soldiers on. "I don't know what to do."

"Jane." After a lifelong of military training and serving the country with rank, surname and occasionally serial number to be called, her name is a caress, a term of endearment.

Once started, Shepard can't back down. And now she must say it aloud: "We fought for so long, I forgot how to do anything else."

There's a tenderness to his gaze when Hackett carefully brushes Jane's cheek as he tucks her hair behind her ear, then traces a line of freckles that form Aries constellation an inch to the left of her nose with a tip of his finger. "We go on. Rebuilt our lives and cities. How did it go?" He pauses, thinking. And cites a line from her favorite book that Shepard had mentioned once - years ago, "'From the ashes a fire shall be woken'."

Jane leans into his touch. Long since extinguished hope stirs in her heart when Steven slowly encircles her shoulders in a loose embrace only to draw her closer in the next moment. Smiling slightly, she responds, "A light from the shadows shall spring."

"It's a new beginning. Uncharted territory." Hackett kisses her temple, "But I believe we will be alright."

And here on the roof of Earth' headquarters with soft breath tickling her ear, it sure feels like the beginning of something new. Something precious, wonderful and full of unspoken promises.


End file.
